Re-Writing A Mystery: A Ducktales Fanfic
by The Drew
Summary: 2017 Universe. Dewey seemed surprised to see his mother in that painting, but why? Where is she, and why the animosity between Scrooge and Donald? Perhaps the answers are linked. Scrooge and Donald finally discuss what happened eleven years ago, and how it destroyed their family.


So I haven't written a Fanfic in YEARS... But after watching the premiere of the new Ducktales, and seeing that ending, the wheels started turning my my head and eventually, I had to write them out. Highly doubt the show is going to go this route in the story of the nephew's mother, but this is my take on her disappearance, as well as the animosity between Donald and Scrooge. Enjoy!

 **R** **e-writing a Mystery: A Ducktales Fanfic.**

"Last one in has to clean the garage!"

A series of splashes filled the air as the children dove into the swimming pool. At the back window, Scrooge McDuck, the richest duck in the world, stood watching his nephews. They'd spent most of the afternoon running roughshed over his backyard, and, loud as they could be, he was okay with their presence. It was strange having family around again. Much as he hated to admit it, he'd been lonely. Beakley and Webby were fine company sure, but they weren't family. Not like Donald and the boys.

Oh but they were a wild bunch. Huey, always prepared for whatever their adventures threw their way. Louie, with his knack for getting himself- and by extension the rest of them- into trouble. And Dewey. Running headfirst into danger without as much as a second thought.

" _Just like his mother_ " Scrooge thought to himself with a smile. Dewey was so very much like Della it was almost frightening. His niece always had the drive, the desire, for adventure. Even when she'd been the boys age, she'd been just angling for something more in the world. When she was old enough, he'd taken her and her brother- Donald- under his wing, and together the trip trekked across the globe, facing down dangers and monsters and discovering trinkets and treasures lost to history. It'd been high adventure.

At least, for awhile.

Shaking his head, the old duck turned from the window and headed for his study. Shutting the door behind him, he walked over to an old photo covered by a tarp. In it, the three of them stand in front of a mountain so tall the tip of it couldn't be seen. They were much younger than, even Scrooge. The photo had been taken on one of their very first adventures together, and in each of their faces, he saw the boys. Donald, like Huey, was always prepared for the worst. Scrooge, attracting trouble in his search for adventure, just like Louie. And Della, itching to dive headlong into whatever awaited them. Just like Dewey.

Eleven years since that night... Where had the time gone?

Scrooge wondered what, if anything, the boys knew of their mother. What Donald had told them. He doubted much, seeing as the trio seemed completely unaware of their uncle's adventuring days until they'd arrived here. Curious as he was, he hadn't dared asked. After that first night, after Donald and the boys had moved in, Scrooge and his estranged nephew had spoken briefly. Though at the ports when they'd all returned from Atlantis, things had seemed- cordial?- back at the mansion the coolness that had filled the air the moment they'd faced each other in the driveway had returned. Scrooge had made some offhand remark about their adventure, how it reminded him of the old days, and Donald? Donald had gone stiff as a board. He turned to face his uncle with a heavy look in his eyes.

"But it's not like the old days, is it?"

He didn't have to say more, Scrooge knew exactly what he meant. Standing there open mouthed, he wanted to talk, he had so much he'd kept back- eleven years of things unsaid- but Donald wasn't through. "I'm thankful that you are giving the boys and I a place to stay, I'm glad they'll get a chance to know you... But, as long as we're here, we will not speak of her." And then he went off to his room and shut the door.

Scrooge had let him go, standing there alone in the hallway for a few moments before a loud crashing sound followed by a "my bad" from Louie pulled him back towards the foyer.

That had been almost a month ago, and though the lot of them had gone on a number of adventures since that night, Scrooge could sense Donald's unease. His eyes almost never left his nephew for long, no matter what else was going on. He was protective of the lads, and Scrooge couldn't blame him. But it was also distracting him, and had led to Donald almost getting himself hurt. Something had to be done, even if the old duck wasn't sure he was up to it.

Leaving the study, Scrooge knocked at Donald's door. When his nephew didn't answer, Scrooge simply walked in- it was his house after all- and found Donald sitting on his bed with a book in his hand. At first, he thought perhaps he'd interrupted the younger duck's reading, but the closer he got, the more he saw he was wrong. It wasn't a book, but a photo album.

Peaking over Donald's shoulder, he saw pictures of Huey, Dewey and Louie when they were younger. Playing in, on and around Donald's old boat. Or at the park, or on the docks, no matter where they were they seemed to be causing no end of problems for their uncle. Scrooge stifled a laugh, but Donald still heard him and quickly shut the album. Turning around, he found himself face to face his his old uncle, and seemed unsure what to say or do.

"Scrooge..."

The old duck sighed. It was time, whether he liked it or not. They'd put this off for over a decade now.

"Donald."

He took a breathe, trying to think of how to best approach such a tender subject. He looked around the room absent-mindedly, and noticed a bauble they'd picked up on their last adventure. Or rather, Dewey had.

"Ah, the stone Dewey found."

Donald shrugged.

"He gave it to me when we got back..."

Scrooge smiled, thinking of the young duck's excitement when he'd found it.

"Lad's a bit of a wild one, isn't he... A lot like his mother."

That did it. Donald's eyes widened, and Scrooge was fully prepared for his nephew to blow his top, as he was well known for doing. But he didn't. The rage that slowly made it's way to his face was not the explosive type, but rather, more a simmering one. It had been boiling under the surface for eleven years, and he wasn't going to waste it on a tantrum.

"I told you were weren't going to talk about her."

Donald rose from the bed and headed for the door, only for Scrooge's cane to shut the door and block the younger duck's path.

"You did, but it's killing you. I've been watching you out there, how you are with the boys... You're worried about them, and it's distracting you."

The younger duck had yet to turn around. He hadn't said another word, simply waited for his uncle to get to the point.

"You're worried what happened to Della will happen to them."

Quicker than Scrooge had ever seen him move, Donald turned and grabbed his uncle by the shoulders with a start, picking him up off the ground and staring into him with angry eyes.

"You're damn right I am! Those boys are all I have left of her. And that's because of you!"

He dropped Scrooge to the floor, his breathing heavy. The old duck looked up but didn't try to move.

"I didn't know... It wasn't supposed to be... It wasn't my fault that she.."

Donald was fuming now, staring down at his uncle.

"Say it Scrooge. Just say it. That she died."

There it was, the burden the two of them had each been carrying for over a decade. Out in the open now, yet still hanging over them like the sword of Damocles.

"We were done McDuck. Out of the adventure gave. It was fun when we were kids, but we had to grow up sooner or later... When Della got married, you knew it was over... And when she got pregnant with the boys, they should've been it for good. But you..."

Scrooge had made it back to his feet, though he rested on his cane as he got his bearing back.

"Me? Was it my fault that two-timing arse she married ran off with another woman? No. I did what I thought was best. She needed a pick me up, you knew that as well as I did. It was supposed to be..."

He stopped mid-sentence, the memories of that night so clear now that he couldn't say another word.

" _It was supposed to be so easy."_

 _*************_

 _Della had been having a rough go of things, Scrooge knew that. He'd known it was coming for some times, ever since he'd given her away at her wedding. That husband of hers- well, ex-husband now- hadn't been nearly good enough for her and Scrooge had seen it. But she was happy then, and he hoped he would be wrong for once. He wasn't._

 _He knew she was staying with Donald, her ex having left her penniless, and she too proud to come to him for money. Still, he'd wanted to help. So when he'd gotten a hold of a map to a hidden treasure- one without a curse or a monster or anything of the like attached to it for a change- he thought it was just what the doctor ordered._

 _Della and Donald had both been surprised when Scrooge showed up at the boat, more so once he revealed why he was there. He wanted to get the old team back together. And Della, sweet Della, she'd been all for it. Donald, not as much. A part of him wanted to- that adventurous spirit he'd had growing up never having been fully extinguished- but someone had to be responsible. There were three infants in the boat now, and he couldn't leave them, nor could Della bring them along._

 _But Donald had watched his sister grow steadily more broken since her husband had run off, and seeing the light in her eyes once more... How could he stand in her way?_

 _So he'd offered to stay. He'd watch the boys, while she went on one last adventure._

 _One last adventure. Her last._

***********

"I know what it was supposed to be Scrooge. But that wasn't what it wound up being, was it?"

Scrooge, who was sitting on the bed now, said nothing. The memories were still fresh, and he couldn't bear to turn away from them. Leaving the floor to Donald, who took full advantage of it.

"I waited for you two to come back. For hours. Then days. When those boys- those babies- looked at me and asked for their mama, I hushed them and told them she'd be back soon... For three days, I told them day. And then..."

************  
 _  
The door burst open, sound of rain falling heavily seeped into the quiet boat. Donald jumped from his chair, making sure none of his nephews had awoken. They were still asleep, a luxury he had barely afforded himself these past few nights. He'd always been a worrier, but at least in the old days, there was usually something he could do about it._

 _Scrooge stood in the doorway of the boat, his feathers wet and his arms and legs bruised. His cane was damaged, and he limped slowly towards the couch. Donald rushed the help him, and led him gently to a seated position. Once his uncle was off his feet, Donald turned back towards the door, expecting his sister to be on her way in. But she wasn't. Walking to the door, he looked outside and saw no one else on the dock. The worry in his gut was heavier now, and he turned to look at Scrooge._

 _"Where... Where's Della?"_

 _The old duck looked up at his nephew grimly._

 _"There was an accident... Oh lad.. I'm.. I'm so sorry."_

 _Donald couldn't think. Could barely breathe. Instinctively, he rushed his uncle in anger and pushed him hard against the couch._

 _"You're sorry? You're sorry?"_

 _He wanted to say more, but the words wouldn't come. He let go of the older duck, and the tears began to take hold. Shaking them off, he forced himself to speak._

 _"You said it would be safe- that she would be safe!"_

 _Scrooge fought to get off the couch but the bruises he'd accumulated on his journey stopped him._

 _"I was wrong... I'm.."_

 _Donald brushed his tears away, his face red with both sadness and anger._

 _"No. No more sorrys... Get out of my house."_

 _Scrooge looked at his nephew pleadingly._

 _"Donald.."_

 _"No. Get out.. The boys will be awake soon.. I need to get their bottles ready.. Just.. Just go."_

 _The old duck picked himself up slowly and limped to the door. Turning back, he looked at his nephew through tear filled eyes of his own. The younger duck couldn't look at his uncle, just headed for the kitchen. Scrooge watched him for a moment before leaving, the weight of the world on his back._

*************

"Do you know what it was like? To look at those boys every day, to see her face in them... To tell them their mother wasn't coming back?"

Donald picked up the photo album and threw it at Scrooge. The old duck caught it and looked through it's pages, seeing pictures of the much younger triplets. He wished he'd had the chance to see these moments in person, to have been there for them.

"These past ten years have been hell. But those boys are all I have left of my sister. So yeah, I am protective of them. Just like I should've been of her."

Scrooge shut the book and handed it back to his nephew.

"I am sorry Donald, and I always will be. I'm sorry I couldn't protect her. But.."

Flipping the book open, he pointed to a recent picture- of the boys and Donald and Webby and Scrooge- from one of their recent adventures. The boys, soaking wet from a mis-timed landing by Launchpad. Webby, Scrooge and Donald next to them, the whole group laughing at what they'd all gone through.

"They are not her. And almost getting yourself killed protecting them... They are so much like her, and you, and me. You said it yourself, they are going to get themselves into trouble no matter what we do."

He put his hand on his nephew's shoulder, though Donald didn't react right away. He wasn't sure where Scrooge was going with this.

"But they have something she didn't have that day. The both of us."

Donald looked at his uncle. The great troublemaker. Ten years, they'd avoided each other. Until there'd been no going but to turn to one another. Because of the boys. He'd been so focused on keeping them out of trouble, he hadn't taken the time to realize that Scrooge, in his own way, was doing the same. Donald knew the old duck had stopped adventuring after that night- it had been in all the papers after all- and when he'd dropped the boys off that day, he could tell that Scrooge had changed. That night had broken him as well. Now he was trying to make amends, and Donald? He'd been ignoring them at every turn.

Della's death had split their family apart. Her boys, his boys now, were slowly bringing it back together. Maybe that was for the best.

Maybe it was time to let the past go, so the future could come about.

"I'll never forgive you for that night, but... I'm not going to keep hating you either.. We're family Scrooge, and I think Della would want us to be that again."

Scrooge smiled at his nephew. It was a start.


End file.
